


between dawn's shadows

by hmmwatt



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Plot/Plotless, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 07:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18132566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmmwatt/pseuds/hmmwatt
Summary: He knows he will be there.





	between dawn's shadows

**Author's Note:**

> atop the morning sunrise  
> laying down and legs crossed  
> let's just stay like this.
> 
> like in a warm blanket  
> when sunrays cover us  
> we will melt away.
> 
> hyukoh―Gondry

Garrett knows he will be there.

A short vibration rouses him. Garrett blearily rubs his eyes and swallows a yawn―he must have fallen asleep at some point. His laptop is long dead, and the amber streetlight is spilling in through the blinds, casting thin, hazy lines across the otherwise darkened room. He shifts, stretches on the couch and gropes for his glasses. Apparently they landed on the floor but are otherwise okay, thank god. He finally lifts his phone from his chest and checks the screen.

11:43 p.m. and below, a single text notification.

[ can I crash at your place tonight? ]

It’s another month into Shane’s project, and Garrett knows that the two of them―Andrew and Shane―have been working themselves down to the bone. They were away for the entirety of last week shooting, and are now spending sleepless nights editing if Shane’s Instastories were anything to go by. Garrett could practically smell the diet root beer through the screen. The new series were going to be massive, apparently, but when were their videos _not_  extraordinary? Especially with Andrew being so good at his job. He won’t ever say it out loud―that he watches Shane’s videos repeatedly, just keeping count of cool transitions here and interesting graphics there that have _Andrew Siwicki_ written all over it―but he can tell. He always can.

But as for the matter at hand―this is something he cannot tell. Garrett well knows that Andrew’s own place should be closer to Shane’s. Or at least much closer than Garrett’s. He well knows that Andrew cannot be in a state to really hang out, and what he needs is probably a good night’s sleep, maybe a hearty breakfast after. And Garrett is not sure why Andrew would consider crashing at his place a good idea. Sure, it’s not so cluttered anymore―he’s been taking care of his newly-arranged apartment very well, even surprising himself―but what else could he offer to make this appealing to Andrew?

A good friendship, Garrett guesses. A familiar, comfortable presence. Hey, they were roommates before anyway.

He tries to ignore those wistful thoughts that echo in the back of his mind, repeating ‘friend’ back to him―friend, just a friend that you stare at too long, think about too often, worry over too much. A friend that laughs too loud at your stupid jokes, knows exactly what to get you for birthdays because they share so much, looks at you with so much warmth that takes your breath away. A friend, but so much _more_ to you, so much―

Garrett shakes his head firmly as if he would scatter away his thoughts. They clatter loudly against the inner sides of his skull as they disappear, for now.

Andrew is a good friend. Great friend, actually. Ever since they were roommates he’s had to put up with the weirdest things Garrett came up with, but he stayed. They have established a somewhat odd friendship, with Garrett being the crazy one, and Andrew being the―well, less-crazy one.

Andrew―his laughter, his words, and even his silence―grounds him. Wherever Garrett’s impulses may take him, he knows he will listen to Andrew, return to his side. And Garrett would like to think that he does the same. That Andrew follows him to his weird escapades because it’s fun, letting his mind off of things, that it makes him less anxious. That they circle each other in comfortable orbit, opposing forces evened out. It’s a rare, precious thing. So precious that he worries about getting too close, losing whatever balance they had, collapsing beyond repair.

Like right now, he supposes. He can feel the clench in his chest.

But he knows he will be there for Andrew. So he texts back,

[ Yeah sure. want me to pick you up? ]

There’s a moment where everything is quiet. The streetlight flickers as Garrett watches his phone screen darken and eventually lock itself. When it buzzes alive again, he belatedly realizes that he’s been holding his breath.

[ actually. that'd be great ]  
[ thank you ]

Garrett can almost hear the low, whispered ‘thank you’, and his chest lets go of that tension. He reaches for his jacket and keys.

 

. . .

  
Andrew knows he will be there.

He loves his work, no doubt about it. Shane―and Ryland, since he’s been practically staying at their home for days―they are good people, good co-workers. Shane has the most interesting ideas and Andrew gives his best to set those ideas into motion. And he is allowed quite a bit of creative freedom, because hey, Shane’s ideas are usually pretty crazy from the start. But it’s been several weeks of constant care and struggle over the current project, and Andrew can rightly say that he feels drained.

It might explain why he’s not fiddling with the half-finished video and staring down at his phone, as if the blue text bubble is something alien to him. He is not sure why he messaged Garrett―he will give the excuse that his frazzled brain kind of auto-piloted to his best friend’s number. That’s completely reasonable, right?

In the quiet of the editing room, except for the muted shuffling of Cheeto and the dogs outside, Andrew waits. Maybe Garrett is asleep―but just as Andrew thinks that, Garrett’s reply pops up on the screen.

[ Yeah sure. want me to pick you up? ]

And maybe it’s a bit selfish, this warmth that spreads down to his stomach. It’s pretty damn late to be asking his friend to pick him up, even his best friend. What a normal person should do is just call an Uber, drag himself to his own place, sleep this out―whatever this is―but right now, Andrew wants company. And Garrett would know just what he wants, just what to do. He already does.

Andrew cannot imagine how his life would have gone if they never met. And it’s not just about this job as Shane’s editor. Garrett, with his goofy smile and twinkling eyes, somehow barged into the corner of Andrew’s tightly-woven heart, taking permanent residence. Their friendship has become something Andrew trusts without doubt, be it selfish or not. In vulnerable moments like these, he gravitates to Garrett without thinking. And he knows he will be there. The simple fact that Garrett will be there―it seems to drain the tightness from his shoulders.

And if that is a little too much to expect from just best friends, treading the thin line between friends and something else―well, nobody else has to know.

He hears the drag of slippers across the floor and looks up. “Hey Andrew, you staying for the night?” Shane’s head peeks out around the corner of the doorway.

“Oh, no. I think I’ll―” he thinks about it for a second, but his tired mind can’t really think of good excuses. “Garrett’ll come pick me up.”

“Garrett?” Shane asks, his brows shooting up, but he doesn’t pry further. Andrew figures he really looks that tired. “Yeah, uh. I was just texting him.”

“That’s cool. You need some rest. Just don’t let him rope you into something weird, alright? No sleeping in cemeteries.” Shane jokes, and Andrew cracks a smile.

“Alright,” he nods, and as Shane’s slippers shuffle away, he quickly texts Garrett back.

[ actually. that’d be great ]  
[ thank you ]

He re-reads the conversation, then puts down his phone to pack his things. Garrett will be here soon.

 

. . .

  
It’s past midnight when Garrett arrives at Shane’s door. Andrew folds himself into the passenger seat and seemingly crumples against the backrest while Garrett places his luggage in the back.

“Thanks,” Andrew whispers when Garrett returns to the driver’s seat. His voice sounds too tight for Garrett’s liking, but he only smiles softly in return. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you home, alright?”

Andrew makes a small sound of agreement, and they set off. It is quiet―not the awkward silence, but a comfortable one. The streetlights they pass by reveal warm glimpses of Andrew's profile. Hair tousled, rounded lines that slide smoothly from the bridge of his nose to his chin. His eyes are closed, and when they stop at a light, Garrett can hear the deepened breathing.

He takes an extra lap around the block before finally parking near his apartment.

Carefully, Garrett places a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “Hey there,” he laughs as Andrew shudders awake and blearily looks around. “Sorry to wake you, but you’ll sleep better inside.” Sleep-ridden brown eyes stare, then crinkle into a smile. Such a simple thing shouldn’t make Garrett’s heart ache, but it does. So he just gets out of the car and opens the other door for Andrew, holding out his hand.

“Thanks,” Andrew says for the second time, taking his hand. It’s a bit colder than Garrett’s. “Don’t worry about it,” Garrett repeats.

They don’t bother with turning on the lights―Andrew’s been over enough to navigate himself around the furniture. Garrett tries not to think about what that means. Instead, he leads Andrew straight to the bedroom and plops him down on the bed. Andrew lets him. It takes a few seconds, as if his brain is lagging behind, but he eventually sees the unicorn between the pillow and frowns.

“This is―bed?”

“Yeah,” Garrett shrugs. “You need proper sleep.”

“But―”

“No ‘but’s, Andrew.”

“No butts?” Andrew mumbles, and it’s so ridiculous that both of them dissolve into helpless giggles. “Wow,” Andrew breaths out, floppily lying on his side. “My brain _really_ isn’t okay right now.”

“I can see that.” Garrett tries to stifle his laugh, to little avail. “Well, your butt is allowed on my bed, Andrew. It’s a super special thing.”

“Mhm,” Andrew giggles into the pillow, eyes droopy and voice growing quiet. “I do feel special.”

Garrett adds that sentence―and how Andrew says it―to his ‘don't-think-about-it’ list. He kneels by the bed and watches over Andrew until he hears his breathing even out, sees his jaw go slacker. He sneaks out then to sprawl himself out on the couch.

 

. . .

  
The room is suffused in deep blue when Andrew wakes up, his face half buried in the unicorn doll. He barely remembers how he got in the bed, but he distinctly feels the hollowness in his chest. Maybe it’s the cold, Andrew thinks, as he pulls the blanket closer. Even then, something is missing.

Slowly, he sits up, takes a moment to think through his still-sloshy brain. He listens to the early morning birds flutter out the window.

Garrett, he thinks. Where is he?

Andrew quietly walks out of the bedroom, the blanket still over his shoulders like a little kid playing superman. In the yet dim living room, he finds Garrett fast asleep on the couch. His neck is bent in an uncomfortable angle―Andrew’s sure he’s gonna feel it in the morning. So he does the logical thing, as a good friend.

“Hey,” Andrew whispers, as he stoops, places a hand on Garrett’s forearm and gives a little shake. Garrett mumbles in his sleep, and as Andrew gets more insistent, opens his eyes.

“Mmph―uh. Andrew?”

And because Andrew’s tired mind really cannot say it any other way, he blurts out, “Sleep with me.”

Garrett stills under his hand. “Uh.”

“It’s cold,” Andrew continues, somehow feeling sure in himself despite the reaction. “And you’re going to get a crick in your neck at this rate. Bed’s big enough for both of us. I think. If we snuggle.”

Garrett laughs softly at the word ‘snuggle’, his voice a tone lower than usual. Andrew stares. Without the glasses, Garrett seems different somehow. It should be illegal to look that good so early in the morning, Andrew vaguely thinks, then has to check himself to make sure he didn’t say it out loud.

“So are you coming?” he asks instead.

And Andrew can see the uncertainty in his eyes, half-hidden behind the laughter―but Garrett nods and follows him into the bedroom.

Andrew plops down sideways like he did before and tugs at Garrett’s wrist. Garrett slowly lies down on his side, facing Andrew. And because he feels like Garrett’s going to topple out of the bed, lying so precariously, he again does the logical thing.

He puts one arm around Garrett and pulls him in for a hug. A snuggle. Whatever it should be called.

Garrett stiffens for a moment before melting into the contact. He is warm, and Andrew sighs and closes his eyes, head leaning against Garrett’s collarbone. This is what his sleep-ridden brain was missing. Garrett’s hands tentatively come up to Andrew’s shoulder, and Andrew feels the comfort that seem to exude in waves from the single, simple gesture. It feels ridiculously good, and Andrew giggles sleepily.

“Good night,” he says, well knowing it’s dawn already. But Garrett doesn’t seem to mind as he hums an answer into Andrew’s hair.

Their breaths match, mingle, then slow.

 

. . .

  
Garrett opens his eyes first.

Andrew is still breathing deeply, fast asleep. It takes Garrett a few seconds to remember just how they landed in this position, with Andrew’s head a soft weight over his stretched-out arm, face turned directly into his.

Morning seeps through the window in pale light. It washes softly over Andrew’s mussed hair, slight darkness under closed eyelids, and stubble growing into a beard. His mouth is ever so slightly open into a quiet sigh.

Garrett takes everything in, holding his breath. It is so vulnerable. _He_ is so vulnerable. If he were a moon orbiting Andrew before, this single moment has now turned him into a comet hurtling straight down in flames. And though it’s a long, long fall, it never makes a sound.

He lets out a shaky breath and Andrew shifts slightly. Brown eyes open, blink, then look up.

It is so deep, Garrett thinks, as he meets the gaze. There is nothing to break the fall, he will be burnt up like this, quietly. And he will love every second of it.

 

. . .

  
Andrew wakes to the feel of soft breath over his face.

He opens his eyes right into Garrett, something he was not quite prepared for. Blue eyes seem darker in the pale morning light, and he cannot help but wonder, marvel at their expanse. They waver, on him, over him, so open. It’s a gaze that he perhaps only caught in glimpses before―but now it is here, in front of him.

Andrew feels the corner of his heart loosen, where it’s so distinctly reserved for Garrett, slipping and spilling unspoken thoughts all the way down to his fingertips. He reaches up and touches Garrett’s cheek, lets his palm stay against the warmth. Garrett, who’s been staring as if the gaze is the only thing holding him up, makes a small surprised noise in the back of his throat.

This feels very right somehow.

Uncertainty and fear should have been tearing at his heart in every other direction―and yet, with Garrett’s warmth under his touch and blue, open gaze roaming over his face, Andrew feels sure. He feels ready.

He slowly moves his hand to the back of Garrett’s head, fingers tangling in short strands of hair, and pulls down.

 

. . .

  
The fall is broken as Andrew meets him halfway. Garrett shuts his eyes instinctively as if bracing for impact. And he burns up―disintegrates so silently, oh so sweetly, as their lips find each other.

Andrew feels the warmth radiating from Garrett. His lips slot into his own, as if they were made for this and had been waiting, waiting in silence for too long. He abandons every nerve, every other coherent thought to trust in this moment.

It’s a beginning, and wherever it leads, they know they will be there together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> title is from hyukoh, Gondry. ’s a very good song.
> 
> i’ve just been feeling pretty down. it’s something that will pass over, but does not feel so okay for now. this is my way of coping―writing something stupid, soft and meaningless. if it happens to be soft and soothing for you too―well, i couldn’t ask for anything better.


End file.
